From Beatles to Ballrooms: My Early Life with Hect
by Marcia Landa
Summary: Little is known of Molly before Glenbogle. How the young Bohemian became paired with a born relic like Hector is a mystery that rivals that of the sphinx. Now, in her own words, Molly reveals the daring and passionate saga of her early life with Hector.


Little is known of Molly before Glenbogle. How the young Bohemian became paired with a born relic like Hector is a mystery that rivals that of the sphinx. Now, in her own words, Molly reveals the daring and passionate saga of her early life with Hector.

**From Beatles to Ballrooms**

**My Early Years with Hector**

by Molly MacDonald as told to Marcia Lou

Foreword to the Second Edition

I first came to meet Molly and learn of her remarkable story as many people did, by watching the wonderfully warm and funny documentary, _The Monarch of the Glen_, made for BBC and later shown in the US on PBS. It was from this film that I learned about Glenbogle House, a castle on a Highland estate, owned and inhabited for generations by the noble, but impoverished MacDonald family. What was most interesting about the show was that it featured the people who lived and worked there almost as much as it did the ancient architecture, the stunning scenery, the colorful history and those antiques that hadn't been sold off yet.

In the documentary, the Laird of the estate (Scottish for Lord) was a young man named Archie MacDonald. He and his mother, Molly, were hosting the televised tour. Archie's father and Molly's husband (the irascible Hector) kept popping up to extol the virtue of whatever whisky he was drinking at the time or to show us the dogs. He had recently retired as Laird and made it clear, that whatever was being described, wasn't done that way in _his _day.

Not wanting to travel alone, I took along the teenage daughter of a friend of mine. Flurina had also seen the made-for-TV film and was smitten by the _Boglie bug _as she dubbed our infatuation. She was at that age where she was mortified at the thought of being seen with her family, but she didn't seem to mind accompanying me. My own children being likewise of the age where they wanted nothing to do with me, I looked forward to this trip with a girl I had known for 15 years - her entire life, but with whom I had never spent any real time alone. As it turned out, our adventure was far more exciting than either of us had imagined.

Flurina and I flew to Edinburgh where we spent a few days seeing the sights. Then we took the train to the Highlands. We got off at Glenbogle and found a guesthouse in the middle of town. When we told the proprietor, Liz, where we were headed and asked how to get there, she said not to worry, she'd have her nephew, Duncan, drive us.

_Duncan? Was that the same Duncan we saw on the documentary? The one who wore the kilt and worked with the ghillie named Golly? _It was. We were so excited. Liz directed us to a nearby pub, the Ghillie's Rest, for lunch. When we returned, Duncan was waiting for us in the Land Rover. We recognized him right away.

"What's it like being a celebrity?" I asked. "Did Archie have to increase your wages?"

"I wish," he said. "He keeps promising, when the debt is paid off."

We arrived at the house, a castle really, at the same time a small tour bus was pulling up. About 20 people piled out and we joined them. Molly welcomed us at the door. She was even more striking in person than on TV. She brought us into the great hall with the stag heads and the portraits. "We have had some changes here at Glenbogle since some of you might have seen us on TV," she said. "Sadly, my husband Hector died... in a... fishing accident."

We gasped. _Not Hector! That poor, loveable old fool. _Flurina looked like she was about to cry and I probably did too. A fishing accident? I didn't think I was ready to hear the details.

Molly smiled bravely as people murmured their condolences and added, "The good news is that Archie has just married Lexie." _Lexie?_ _The wisecracking cook who shook her dish mop at the camera? How wonderful!. What a Cinderella story!_

Just then Archie came bounding down the stairs with some file folders in his hand. "Hello," he said. He stopped to accept our congratulations and answer questions.

"How did you ever find someone to make a film about your estate?" Someone asked.

"David MacKenzie, the filmmaker, was a school friend of my late brother," Archie said. _Late brother? That must be the one the film was dedicated to at the end. We had wondered about that. _"He's kept in touch and somehow, over a few pints, he and I hatched this idea."

"Are you out of debt yet?" somebody else asked.

"Not quite," Archie said. "With the increased tourism from the TV publicity we raised enough to pay off all the old debt. However, with my father's death, we now have death duties to pay."

People expressed their sympathy for both the death and the death duties.

"The good news," he continued, "Is that David has raised enough money to film a Gothic thriller right here on the estate. We expect to make enough to pay off the death duties. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you in Mother's good hands."

Molly showed us around the house: the cozy sitting room, the dining room with the worn chairs, the musty library, the comfortable billiard room, and the antiquated kitchen, now presided over by a pleasant, efficient looking woman called Irene . It was exciting to see all the things we saw on TV and more, up close. By the time we returned to the Front Hall Molly asked if there were any more questions.

Flurina bit her lip and I gave her a poke. "Go ahead," I said.

"You ask," she whispered. "I'm too embarrassed."

"What's to be embarrassed about?" I whispered back, but I could see she would not be persuaded, so I spoke up. "Molly, how did you and Hector meet and fall in love?"

"Oh," Molly laughed. "We met in London when I was an art student and he was a young man about town. It was just a simple boy meets girl story, nothing so very interesting." Somehow I suspected she was wrong in her evaluation but I didn't pursue the matter.

Later on, when she had finished showing us the garden and the rest of our group were returning to their tour bus, Flurina and I approached her again. "Molly, I am a writer," I said, stretching the truth quite a bit. "And I think I can sniff out a good story here. I suspect your simple tale of boy meets girl might be more interesting than you might think."

"I don't know" she said doubtfully. "Do you really think so?

"I can't say for sure," I said. "It's just a hunch."

"I would love to hear of your romance," Flurina added.

"If you would be willing to spend some time with us over the next few days, at your convenience, of course, we might be able to work together to write an article," I said. "If it sells, it would provide free publicity for your estate."

"Free publicity," Molly mused. "Archie would like that. Perhaps if you would like to come to tea tomorrow we could discuss it."

So it was agreed. Tea with Molly tomorrow at 4:00. We couldn't have been more excited if she were a Hollywood celebrity. We thanked her politely and took our leave.

"Marcia, I didn't know you were a writer," Flurina said.

"Actually, I write computer manuals," I admitted. " But if she asks, I can tell her I once wrote an article for the local newspaper and a children's book which was never published."

We arrived the next day at 4:00 with a taper recorder borrowed from the inn-keeper, Liz. Although this was to be a working tea for just the three of us, we did get a chance to meet Molly's step-son Paul, who had not been in the documentary, but who was now running an outdoor programmed on the estate. Taller and more confident looking than Archie, Paul greeted us with a good natured smile. I mention Paul because his presence is something more than a footnote in Molly's story, as you shall see.

As you can also see, we did get the story published. I don't know how much extra revenue it has generated for the MacDonald family, but it is already advancing my own career. I just got a call from my publisher that someone named Justine MacManus, a parapsychologist at Clyde University, has a story to tell and is looking for a ghost-writer. It seems that there is another trip to Scotland in store for me.

Marcia Lou, June 30, 2006

Introduction

I am a dowager lady of a Scottish Highland estate. We live far from anywhere you would have heard of, and unless you happened to see the TV documentary, _The Monarch of the Glen_, you've never heard of me, either. I have done nothing remarkable or noteworthy in any way. I wasn't even married to someone who was remarkable or noteworthy, although I did love my late husband dearly.

Never-the-less, many of the viewers of the TV documentary seemed to have become enchanted with the story book setting they imagine me to live in and have made many kind inquiries into my current and past life. What they frequently want to know, is how Hector and I came together. Their curiosity about something so commonplace as two people meeting and falling in love puzzled me at first. Now I've come to understand that through the lens of the film maker's camera, the small contradictions in our married life were magnified, as if under a microscope. In reality, I don't think our differences in outlook and temperament, and the small annoyances we caused each other on occasion, were any more than you would find with most old marrieds, but viewers seem to have seen us a somewhat of an "odd couple."

In order to set the record straight and provide a context for our relationship as it appeared on TV, I agreed to tell the story of my early life with Hector. At the time I lived it, it was the only life I knew, and I didn't think of it as anything out of the ordinary. I haven't thought of many of the details I am about to describe in very long time. Now that I recall them, I suppose some of the aspects of our early life together were rather singular and that there may be some points of interest, but I will leave that for the reader to decide.

-1-

Before I tell you about Hector and me, I will start with a bit about my background. My parents were James and Mary Gilbride. My father was the younger son of a Scottish nobleman. His brother Roy inherited the estate, which is in the Borders. We used to love to visit as children. His sister, Elizabeth, married a wealthy automobile manufacturer. My father received a sizeable income from his family which allowed him to live the life of a gentleman.

My parents moved to London, where they had my brother Jolyon and me. I went to boarding school. It was a very conventional life, really.

Nothing much was expected of me when I finished school at the age of 17 except to go to finishing school and shortly thereafter get married. I had other ideas: I insisted on going to art school. I had a teacher who had encouraged me, otherwise I never would have thought of it myself.

I enrolled at the Slade, which was part of the University of London. I began by commuting from home, but before the first term was out, I knew I didn't want to do that anymore. I don't know how I convinced my parents, but they actually let me move into a flat with a classmate.

For the first time in my life, I loved school. It was so liberating to be with artists. These people were unconventional, they talked about ideas, they came from all levels of society, representing different income groups, religions, and nationalities. They weren't like my parents set at all, and I decided I was never going back to my parents set again.

In my third year I moved from the flat to a townhouse in Chelsea with other students, not all of them girls, as my parents thought. There were Louis and Jacob in addition to Barb and me.

Soon my mother started phoning me about the Autumn Cotillion. Didn't I have a date for it? It was so important that I go. Now that I was in my last year of school I had to think about my future. Blah blah blah. The upshot was that she wanted me to go with this young man who was the son of an old friend of the family. I refused. I told her point blank that I was not going to the Cotillion and I had plenty of boyfriends already, I didn't need an introduction from her, thank you very much.

So that was that, or so I thought. The next day I got a call from this Hector MacDonald, the son of the family friend. He sounded like someone from a Victorian novel. He called me 'Miss Gilbride'. He was requesting my presence as his companion at the Autumn Cotillion.

I thanked him politely and told him there must have been a mistake. I had clearly told my mother that I did not want to attend the Cotillion. Hector said that he didn't want to attend it either, was there something else I wanted to do? I thought about it for a moment and rather wickedly told him that I had my heart set on going to the opening night of the new Beatles movie, _A Hard Day's Night_. I say wickedly because I was sure this would put him off."

"Beatles", he said. "Is it about insects?" I couldn't imagine where my parents found this boy. Not know who the Beatles were? I mean it was 1964. They were an international phenomenon. Their music was played everywhere.

Hector offered to take me to A Hard Day's Night. He said he was looking forward to it. He seemed to think it would be educational, which I suppose it was, for him. So that's how I avoided the Cotillion, but still had a date with the funny gentleman my parents had arranged for me.

-2-

Hector was quite punctual when he came to pick me up for our date. He was wearing a funny tweed suit that would have looked fine on a Highland estate, but in Chelsea it was très déclassé. All the other young men were wearing jeans or tight trousers. He was so country mouse.

He handed me a bouquet of roses. None of my beaus had ever given me flowers before. He apologised that they weren't as fine as the ones in his late mother's garden, but they were the best he could find in London. They were lovely, an apricot colour.

We went into the kitchen to find a pitcher to put the roses in. My flatmates were there smoking, sharing a single fag. I introduced them to Hector, and they offered him a puff, which he declined and I got us out of their as fast as I could. When we were outside he asked me who they were. Were they workmen on a break?

It turned out he had a taxi waiting. All that time inside and he didn't rush me at all. That was when he thought the money was never going to run out.

We got to the theatre and Hector looked very old next to all the teenagers and trendsetters, although he was only 28. The movie began, and do you know what? From the first twang of the guitar chord, and the sounds of _A Hard Day's Night_, Hector really enjoyed himself. He laughed at all the jokes. He tapped his fingers to the songs. The only thing he didn't understand was what all the screaming was about.

When it was over, I said, "Well, Hector. I never fancied you for a rock and roll fan."

"That's not rock and roll," he said. "That was truly fine entertainment."

We went out to dinner and Hector told me about his beloved Highlands and the Glenbogle estate he would inherit someday. Through his description I was able to see the snow capped mountains, the pristine lochs and rivers, the moor covered in purple heather, and the noble stags. I fell in love with it right away.

Hector and I continued to see each other. We found plenty of things we both liked to do. We went to the zoo, we saw Camelot, we saw Judy Garland in concert. Somehow I convinced him to take me to a discotheque.

By now Hector had learned to dress for the city. He wore a trim blue suit and a turtleneck. We came into this dark, crowded, seedy looking establishment and I thought he was going to walk out. He looked a little pained at first, but soon he was doing the Frug, and the Surfer, and all those other dances whose names I've now forgotten. He looked like he was having a good time.

He lasted a few hours before he decided it was time to leave. When we came out onto the street, I saw him pull out his earplugs. "That was a once in a life time experience," he said. "I hope."

"Didn't you have a good time?" I asked.

"I had a jolly good time," he said. "Any time's a good time with you." After that I couldn't refuse when he offered to take me to a cricket match.

-3-

Hector and I continued to see each other all that autumn and early winter. Sometimes we'd go out with his friend Kilwillie, his brother Donald, or my roommate Louis. Sometimes we'd go to parties with my friends. He'd bring his earplugs and a bottle of malt and he'd have a jolly good time.

Then, shortly before he was going to leave for the Christmas holiday, he got a call from his sister that his father had died. He called and asked me to come meet him at his rooms. I had never been there before. Of course I agreed to come right away. He was packing and would be taking the evening train. It sounded like he wouldn't be coming back, not to live, anyway.

I arrived at his rooming house - it was quite nice, in a fashionable part of town. I went upstairs and he met me at the door. He looked sad and younger, somehow, but he greeted me with a little smile. We embraced for a long while and he ushered me inside.

We sat down on the sofa. He said, "Molly, I'm laird now. That means I have to take my father's place on the estate. I'm giving up my rooms and will be able to visit London only occasionally."

He paused for a moment and all I could say was, "Oh, Hector, I am so sorry."

"Molly, this is not the most auspicious time to be popping the question," he said, "But if you would give me your hand in marriage, it would make me so happy, don't you know." He gave me a pleading look that made him look even younger than before.

"Oh, Hector, this is so sudden." I said.

"I love you, Molly," he said. "Here, I almost forgot." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. "This was my mother's. Will you accept it?"

"Yes," I said.

"Here, I forgot this part too," he said. He got down on one knee to slip the ring on my finger.

I don't have to give you all the rest of the details. This isn't one of those cheap romance novels, that I confess I find myself reading from time to time. The long and short of it is that I agreed to follow him right after Christmas. That would give me time to finish the term, settle things with my parents, and pack. We would marry the day I arrived. As laird, he had a position in the village. There was no point in causing a scandal.

As soon as we made our plans, I offered to help him pack. There was no need to trouble myself, he told me. Kilwillie was taking care of things as we spoke. He opened the door to an adjoining room - his bedroom. Out came Kilwillie in his shirt sleeves and a look of utter joy on his round, rosy face. "Let me be the first to congratulate you," he said, shaking Hector's hand heartily. "May I be the first to kiss the bride to be?" He gave me a buss on the cheek. Hector was beginning to look like his old self again.

I thought my parents would be thrilled, what with their being so eager to see me married to the right sort of boy. They were thrilled with the engagement, but not with the wedding plans. They wanted me to finish the year at the Slade. The wanted me to have a proper wedding at home. In the end, I agreed to what they wanted.

-4-

When I agreed to postpone my marriage to Hector and finish school I began one of the busiest periods of my life. First of all I had signed up for a course which involved painting a wall in the a student lounge in the pop art style. I was responsible for only one panel, but still it was a tremendous amount of work. Secondly, I had my wedding to prepare for. I had to buy my gown, have fittings done, choose the bridesmaids gowns, work on the invitation list, the tasks were endless. Finally, I had a pretty full social life. Hector made sure of that. He arranged for Kilwillie and his younger brother Donald to see that I wasn't bored. (I'll tell you more about Donald later.) In addition, my roommate Louis, seemed to take pity on me, and he would sometimes include me in his activities, with or without some of our friends. Still, I missed Hector terribly.

Hector and I would write to each other several times a week. Our lives were so different now. He would tell me about the estate, about the leaky pipes he was having repaired, about the duck hunting, about an old dog who got sick and had to be put down, about an old estate worker who got sick and would likely be maintained in his croft for the rest of his life. He told me how much he missed me. He quoted poetry. You wouldn't believe how romantic he was.

Hector came to London for a visit toward the end of February. I was so excited that I made Kilwillie come with me to the station to meet him at the train. When he arrived he was wearing his country-squire suit again. I didn't care. I was just so glad to see him.

We took a cab to Kilwillie's, where Hector would be staying. The three of us sat in the sitting room and talked and drank for awhile before Hector started suggesting that maybe Kilwillie had other things to do. It would have been nice to spend a little time alone, but Kilwillie didn't take the hint.

The next day we had luncheon with my family. Everyone was glad to meet, and things went splendidly at first. My father showed him his small art collection. Hector feigned an interest and said "How lovely" or "capital" to everything he was shown. He showed him his fine wine collection and Hector was able to talk more intelligently about that.

At luncheon my mother asked about the estate and Hector went on at great length about the entire 49,000 acres. Finally my brother Jolyon interrupted to ask, "So what is Molly going to do while you are out stalking, and fishing, and supervising your men?"

"She can paint. And ride. I'll buy her a horse." Jolyon looked sceptical. "And tend my mother's garden. It will be her garden then. You'll like that, won't you Molly?"

"Very much so," I said, although I did feel that something was missing.

"But will there be people to visit?" my mother asked. "Other young married women of our class?"

"Well, let me see," said Hector. "There's Gwyn Fraser, married to Rabbie Fraser at one end of the loch. And at the other end are Lord and Lady Kilwillie, my friend's parents. And there are estates all over the Highlands with people like us, although many are selling out now. I expect that we will be invited to balls and dinners throughout the year."

So Hector passed the test, but in retrospect I can see that my family was concerned about what life would be like for me here, as well they might. But I'll tell you about that later.

Hector returned to Glenbogle after five days. It was even harder to say goodbye to him at the station this time than it had been before. I almost got on the train with him, casting aside all notions of proper wedding plans and school. Hector brought me to my senses. He felt it was important to stay on good terms with my parents.

-5-

After leaving Hector at the station for his journey to Glenbogle I returned home to find Donald waiting for me. That was a surprise. He wore the jaunty, devilish look that was his trademark.

Donald resembles Hector quite a bit, although taller, and frankly, not as good looking. Never-the-less, he had something of the sophisticate about him that might have attracted me once, but not now. Hector was the one I loved and was much sweeter and more trustworthy. Even then I suspected that Donald had his hands in things I'd rather not know about.

"Hector told me to take good care of you," he said with a wink. "I made reservations for us to have dinner at the Ritz."

"I couldn't possibly," I said. "I have another 100 pages of art history to read."

"Phooey to art history," he said. "Hector didn't tell me to make sure you were keeping your nose in the books, he told me to see that you were having a good time." Donald had a way of getting his own way, and I finally gave in to him.

Dinner at the Ritz was delicious, elegant, and expensive. Donald must have just made it big on the horses or something to take me there. We ate, we drank, he amused me with his stories. When we were done, I thought we were done, but Donald thought it was time to dance. So as you probably guessed, we danced and we had some champagne. By the time we left, we were both pretty tipsy.

Donald brought me home. And do you know what? He had the effrontery to kiss me. I have to admit, I was a little slow on the uptake, but I soon enough pushed him away and said, "Shame on you, Donald. What would Hector think?"

"He'd think I had bloomin' good taste," he said. He tipped his cap and walked away. That infuriated me. Still, I decided to let bygones be bygones. He was Hector's brother, after all, and I thought I had made myself clear as to where things stood between us.

Donald continued to take me out about once a week but he didn't try that again. Instead at the end of every date he would give me a mocking little handshake, as a reminder of the one time he went too far.

One evening I attended a party given by my friend Nigel. Coincidently Donald was there also, but not as my escort. It was a jolly affair by the standards of the day. The air was sweet with smoke, the walls were reverberating with music, and the room was dimly lit by a revolving rainbow of colours coming from a ballroom globe overhead. After awhile a small group of us moved into another room where it was quieter.

Somebody suggested that we play strip poker. There was some negotiation around this, but finally it was agreed that towels would be provided for those who had lost all. I was in the mood to go along, even though Donald was one of the players. The game began, and I wasn't doing well. I was down to my under garments before I started to win again, but unfortunately another player was wearing my clothes and I ended up putting on a man's vest and a skirt that was too big for me.

Meanwhile there was a tall skinny chap who had lost everything. Nothing for him but the towel. Then I started to lose once more. I was down to my under garments again. When I lost one more time, I called for the towel. Donald and some of the chaps protested that you only get the towel when everything comes off. The girls backed me up. The brassiere does not come off without a towel. We girls won, but even so it was an embarrassing moment. And then, you can imagine me trying to hold my cards while keeping my towel in place. It was quite hilarious, although I would have enjoyed it more if it were someone else.

When 4 out of 6 of us (including Donald and me) were down to towels we decided to call it quits. Now there was the problem of finding our own clothes and putting them back on. One of the boys had somebody's knickers on his head, and other things had been purposefully hidden around the room just to maximize confusion. I was holding my towel and fishing under the bed for my clothes when I felt a little pat on my backside. "Cut it out, Donald," I said hardly needing to look back. His look was of pure innocence.

All towels had to come off for dressing. There was just no other way. It all seems crazy now, but then it was just a bit of harmless fun.

I went out with Kilwillie as often as I did Donald. Kilwillie always behaved like a gentleman and never happened upon me when I was with my wilder friends. I've concentrated on telling you about Donald to prepare you for what happens next - our wedding, and Donald's ignominious part in it.

-6-

By the end of the term I had finished my wall mural and other course requirements and I was ready for the wedding. Hector came to town two weeks before the day and my mother relieved me of enough of my wedding tasks that I could see him every day. We went to some shows and exhibits and concerts, which I believe we enjoyed, but I don't remember very well. Mostly we enjoyed being together. I had moved out of my place in Chelsea and was back home with my parents. Hector was staying with Kilwillie, who now had the foresight or proper hints from Hector, to leave us alone for hours at a time. It was heavenly.

The wedding was lovely. I won't go into all the details or that would be a story in itself. I'll just say how it was when my father walked me down the aisle and I saw Hector for the first time in his dress kilt, he looked so handsome, I really think my heart skipped a beat.

The wedding breakfast was also lovely with plenty of food, drink, conversation and music. It was lovely until it came time for the toasts. First my father made a toast to both of us. Then Hector made a toast to me. Then Donald, as best man, began his toast.

_"The trouble with being the best man at a wedding is that you normally don't get to prove it. However, I'm willing to prove it to any young lady who is willing to meet me in the garden in half an hour. That includes you too, Molly._

_"The good news, Molly, is that Hector told me he intends to be a model husband and a model lover. I'm sure he will be both, noting that the word model is defined as "a small miniature replica of the real thing." So you may want to reconsider about meeting me in the garden, Molly._

_"The good news for you, Hector, is that Molly is a delightful and beautiful woman. As you know, I've been escorting her around town in your absence and I can guarantee you that I've inspected the goods and blimey, are they good._

_"Finally, I'd like everyone to raise their glasses and join me in this toast: to Hector and Molly, may all your ups and downs be between the sheets. And Molly if you find the downs are more memorable than the ups, you can meet me in the garden in, let's say, a couple of weeks?"_

Donald quaffed his champagne, and sat down, thoroughly pleased with himself. Everyone else was stunned. People sat with their glasses raised and didn't dare sip. Kilwillie, God bless him, stood up and said, "To Hector and Molly, long may they live, love, and prosper." There were shouts of "Hear, hear," and people drank their champagne.

Hector stood up and said, "Thank you Kilwillie for that lovely toast. If I ever marry again, I'll be sure to have you as my best man. Donald I accept your challenge, I will meet you in the garden in half an hour." People laughed uncomfortably. "And If you ever set foot in Glenbogle again, I'll set the dogs on you," he said in a low growl.

"It's just a joke, Hector," Donald said. "He never could take a joke," he chuckled to the people around him. That's when his sisters, Mary and Katrina, came over to the head table where we all sat and began thumping Donald with their handbags.

"You villain, you churl, how could you disgrace yourself at our brother's wedding like that." Donald shielded himself with his arms as they pounded him. It took Jolyon and Kilwillie to pull them away.

Hector approached, wielding a blunt table knife. "I'll not have my sisters fight my battles for me. Come on, Donald. Choose your weapon and fight like a man. Donald picked up his water glass and dumped the contents on Hector's head before Kilwillie and Jolyon could come between them. Donald made a hasty retreat out the door. We never saw him again, although we read about him in the papers from time to time.

So now you see that we had a more memorable wedding than most. Donald sent a note after Hector died, but I didn't find it in my heart to answer him.

By the way, we never saw Mary and Katrina again either. They had always dreamed of moving to Australia, where they believed there to be a surplus of men. As soon as they saw Hector safely married, that's exactly what they did. By the time we returned from our honeymoon, they were gone.

-7-

Hector and I had a lovely honeymoon in France, but this is where I learned what a homebody he was. We would walk along the Seine, and he would say, "This is nice but it's not the Thames." We'd climb the Eiffel Tower and he'd say, "Isn't Big Ben as big?" It's about a third the size. We would walk through the Tuileries and he'd say "Wait until you see my mother's garden. It has things that grow nowhere else in the world." He wasn't even impressed with the Mona Lisa. "You call that a smile?" he scoffed.

"Hector, it's great art. Appreciate it. You may never get a chance to see it again."

"Why should I want to see it again, if I have you smiling at me for the rest of my life."

Our honeymoon was to last 3 weeks, but we cut it short a few days. Hector was so eager to return to his beloved Highlands. When we finally arrived at the Glenbogle Station, I was excited, nervous, and exhausted. We had been traveling for 3 days. Hector's man, Golly, was there to meet us with the Bentley. "Welcome back, Boss," he said. "Welcome to Glenbogle, Madame."

Golly was a little younger than Hector, about my age. Already he had a weather roughened face and hands, but his kindly blue eyes made me realize he was more than just an ordinary servant. It turned out that he was born on the estate, his father being the ghillie before him until he died.

Even then, Hector relied on Golly more than he did any other employee, and confided in him more than he did me. In those early weeks, Golly seemed to be keeping an eye out for me, and whenever we met, would ask how I was doing. He was more attuned to the difficulties I might have in settling in than Hector was.

Hector was overjoyed at being home. First he greeted the dogs, who were overjoyed at seeing him. Then he couldn't wait to put his waders on and go fishing for our dinner.

I spent the afternoon with Mrs Mack, our elderly housekeeper. She introduced me to Minnie, the housemaid, Scotia, the cook and Jock, the handyman.

Mrs Mack unpacked for me and discussed redecorations for my room and showed me around the house. She was a dour woman. She never smiled and she always seemed to be expressing disapproval. She let me know that I didn't have to worry about anything. She would handle the running of the house herself. If I wanted anything, all I had to do was tell her. I did not trust her for a minute.

Hector and I had dinner together. He told me all about his fishing in excruciating detail. I tried to pay attention but I had all I could do to stay awake. After dinner he took me for a walk around the estate. He showed me his mother's, now my, garden. It was magnificent. It had it's own variety of rosebush, called the Glenbogle Rose, that was developed for the estate and never exported anywhere.

In the evening I retired to my room. To his credit, Hector came and visited me there. However, it wasn't until I finally asked the next day that I even knew where his room was. It was in an entirely different corridor from mine. My parents' rooms were adjoining. It was not what I expected.

I tried to keep busy during the days. I gardened, I sketched. I spent a few mornings visiting the neighbouring women: Gwyn Frazer and Lady Kilwillie. They were a disappointment. The former could talk only of her morning sickness. She was expecting early the next year and it seems that if I were to continue seeing her, I was going to learn every detail of her pregnancy.

Lady Kilwillie, on the other hand, informed me all about her change of life problems. A servant had to be on hand at all times to open and close windows and turn on and off fans at command. If these two were any example, it seems that the main preoccupation of the Highland noblewoman was her bodily functions.

It was about a week after our homecoming that Mrs Mack asked me if I would need any help getting ready for the Ball. "Which ball is this?" I asked.

"The Glenbogle Midsummer Ball," she announced. It was a week away, in my house, and she was telling me about it just now? Hector never even thought to mention it. I could have screamed. I was beginning to feel like I was invisible. It was a feeling I would continue to have throughout my marriage to Hector, but fortunately not the only feeling.

-8-

I complained to Hector and Mrs Mack, but neither of them understood why I should have been informed earlier about the Ball. "Mrs Mack has everything under control," Hector assured me. "It's too late to change anything," Mrs Mack said.

"What about the menu. I'd like to see it." Mrs Mack showed me the menu, but for everything I suggested, either the original item could not be cancelled or the replacement item would not be available.

"What about the flowers. I can do the floral arrangements." My mother always did her own floral arrangements at her parties. Mrs Mack informed me that The flowers were already ordered from a from a florist who would do the arrangements. She gave me a sour look of triumph that dared me to make another request.

"Then I'll do the lighting," I said sweetly.

"The lighting? What do you mean the lighting? We are fully electrified here."

"Don't worry," I said in my most condescending tone. "I'll take care of it. You don't need to worry about a thing."

As soon as she wasn't watching, I called my friend Nigel. "I need a ballroom globe like the one you have. Could you find me one or sell me yours and ship it immediately?" Nigel decided it would be easier to sell me his. I paid him an outrageous amount and was glad to do it. It arrived the day before the Ball and nothing was broken.

The next morning I found Jock. "Could you hang this from the ceiling in the Great Hall?" I asked. He obligingly got out the ladder, his tools, and an extension cord. He was just beginning work when Mrs Mack walked in.

"Good morning, Mrs MacDonald," she said brusquely. "What are you doing, Jock?"

"Jock is helping me with the lighting for the Ball," I said with a big smile.

"Very well," she said with a sour look and left the room. Jock finished his work, we tested it, and saw that the ballroom globe was going to work.

"Thank you," I said to Jock. "If you have any problems with Mrs Mack, see me."

That afternoon I met Hector on the stairs as I was going up to prepare for the Ball. "I have something for you to put on tonight," he said sweetly. I thought he meant a corsage.

I was already in my rose coloured silk crepe gown with the halter neckline when Hector knocked on the door. "Ah lovely," he said at the sight of me. "Here, try this on." It was a MacDonald tartan sash. It was all wrong for the dress. I was obliged to change into the ivory satin with short sleeves and a jewel neckline. It was a little out of fashion, but a much better match.

Shortly before the party was to begin, Hector and I planted ourselves in the hall. Golly was to announce the guests and we were to greet them. The Kilwillies were first to arrive - our friend and his parents. Others began arriving and people started to dance. I had not turned on the ballroom globe yet. I thought I would wait until more people arrived and the party became livelier.

When most of the guests had arrived, Hector and I danced together. Oh yes, Hector danced in those days. That was before life made him bitter. He told me the protocol was for us to dance the first and last dances together, but otherwise to circulate among our guests. As soon as we were done, I signaled Golly to take care of the lights and I grabbed Kilwillie as my partner.

People gasped and then oohed and aahed as the usual room lights went out and the room was flooded with revolving patches of colours. "What's this?" Hector demanded.

"It's ballroom light for the Ball," I told him delightedly.

"We can't have this here."

"Why not," I asked. "All the better ballrooms have them in London."

"This is not London, it is the Highlands. It's not how we do things here."

"Hector, our guests like it." He looked unmoved. "Your partner is waiting, Hector."

Hector took his partner, Merilyn McNaughton, I believe, and joined the set. Kilwillie and I joined in as well. Dancing in the lights was lovely, almost romantic.

When the dance was over, Hector went straight to the light switch, turned the main lights back on and unplugged the globe. There was a sigh of disappointment in the room, but Lady Kilwillie gave a little clap and old Colonel Pherson said, "Thank you, Hector, I couldn't see a thing."

"That was a nice little change, Molly," he said. "But we like to do things the old way here." I nearly stamped on his foot. Instead I ran to the stairs, knocking over Mrs Mack carrying a tray of sandwiches in the process. I didn't care. I could hear the clatter and the gasps from below as I ran to my room.

-9-

What an old fuddy-duddy Hector was turning out to be, not even allowing a simple ballroom light at our Ball. This wasn't the pulsating strobe lights that became popular at psychedelic events a few years later. This was just a romantic little light show used in the most respectable places. I was beginning to think I might have made a mistake in marrying him. But I wasn't giving up yet. I collected myself and returned to the party.

I danced most of the night away, but I wasn't myself. I was still cross about the ballroom light. Not only had Hector spoiled the fun, but he had denied me my one contribution to the affair that we were supposed to be hosting together. More than anything, it rankled me that Mrs Mack might see this as a personal victory.

Hector found me for the last dance. The poor booby. He had no clue that anything was wrong. I didn't want to embarrass him in front of our guests by letting my feelings show, but we would have some words about them before the night was over.

The last guest gone, I began to collect glasses and things from the various rooms. I don't normally do this, but it was late and there was a lot for Minnie to do. "Oh, no, Mrs MacDonald. You needn't bother yourself about that," Mrs Mack said as I deposited an assortment of washables onto the kitchen counter. "The lady of the house retires to her room after the Ball."

"Mrs Mack, I don't need to be sent to my room like a small child," I flared. I stormed out to find Hector. He wasn't in his room, and when I came down, there was Mrs Mack, supervising Jock in taking down the ballroom light.

"Really, Mrs Mack," I said. Couldn't this wait until morning when everyone's had a night's sleep."

"I thought you might want to have this packed up to send back to London," she said, avoiding my question. "You won't be needing it here any more."

I found Hector sitting in his study with a glass of whisky. "Hello, Molly. Nice party, what?" he said, beginning to slur. "Look, old girl, I hope you've apologised to Mrs Mack for knocking into her. It caused a damned awful mesh for her to clean up."

"Hector, Mrs Mack is impossible. I can't continue to live in this house with her."

"W-w-why? What's wrong?"

"She's always ordering me around. She makes me feel like an intruder in my own house."

"Molly, Mrs Mack hash been with this family longer than I have. I can't get rid of her."

"And furthermore, I want to make it clear, that as lady of the house, I'm in charge of entertaining."

"But of course, darling."

"So if I arrange to have special lighting at the Ball, you don't pull the plug."

"Molly, you have to understand, there are certain procedures and traditions that must be followed."

"Since when is the burning of the 100 watt light bulb an ancient, Scottish tradition? All I am asking is to have a little control over the decor." I was so cross now I was raising my voice.

"Molly, calm yourself. You're overwrought. I think perhaps you should retire for the night and We'll discuss things in the morning."

"Hector," I shouted, "I don't need to be sent to my room like a small child."

"That's all I have to shay at the moment," he said, gulping his whisky and scowling.

"And another thing. You can make Mrs Mack one of tomorrow's agenda items. You're going to have to chose between us."

"I chose you both," he said. "You for my wife and her for my housekeeper."

"That's not good enough, Hector," I said holding my ground.

"Well if I have to choose, she has a damn sight longer track record than you do." he said. "And she doesn't engage in indiscretions with my traitor of a brother." I looked at him with disbelief. He belched.

"Hector, that's not true." I wept. He wouldn't even look at me and I stormed out of the room. By the time I reached my own room, I was blinded by my tears. I lay down on the bed, but I knew I wouldn't sleep. Hector would come to me, I reassured myself. He would regret his words and come and put his arms around me and everything would be all right. I had left my light on and the door slightly ajar, so he would know I was awake when he came. I waited.

What was I doing with this relic of a man? When I agreed to marry Hector, I pictured coming to something like my Uncle Roy's estate: a comfortable 26 or so rooms, snug, and well heated; 5-10 acres of land and plenty of neighbours nearby; not this draughty, isolated fortress with no one to visit and no one to talk to but a bossy housekeeper.

I waited for Hector some more. Eventually I stopped waiting. I knew he wasn't going to come. He wasn't going to change any of his precious, aristocratic, Highlander ways. I knew that living with him was going to turn me into a lonely, bitter, shrew. I knew I had to escape.

I got up and started packing the essentials in my overnight bag. That done, I dressed for my departure in casual trousers and a simple blouse. I wrote Hector a note, explaining that my leaving was best for both of us and not to try to contact me.

At the first light of dawn I descended the stairs, took a glimpse in the study to find Hector asleep in his armchair, and I crept out the front door. I took one last look at the weathered old castle and began the mile or so walk to the train station. The birds were beginning to chirp, but instead of _good morning_, they seemed to be saying _goodbye_. I was saying, _London, here I come. _

-10-

After I left Hector, I fell asleep in the station and nearly missed my train. I slept on the train, but still felt groggy when we reached London in the evening. I took a cab to my friend Barb's flat and hoped she'd be there. I emerged from the cab with a lump in my throat. It felt so good to be back..

Barb answered the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked. I burst into tears and fell into her arms. She took me upstairs into her room so we'd have some privacy, as her flatmates were home. I told her the whole sorry tale, and at times she cried with me.

She said I could sleep with her until I found more suitable digs. I would need to find a job. I could have gone back to my parents but I didn't want to. I'd feel like such a failure.

The next days were a blur of job and flat hunting. First I found a job as a receptionist at an ad agency. Then I found a chap who was looking for a flatmate. It was a small flat but inexpensive and furnished. Keith would take the sitting room and I would take the bedroom. We would share the kitchen. So now I could move out of Barb's and sleep in comfort.

Being back in London was so much fun, I didn't ever want to leave it again. I went out with friends almost every night. We went to movies, parties, concerts, discotheques, pubs, coffee houses - anyplace the city had to offer. And I met boys. I think I became a flirt, because boy, did the boys like me. When I wasn't going out with friends, I was going out on dates. But I purposely didn't see any one boy too often. What was the point?

My second week at the ad agency - now that was a boring job - my boss called me into his office. I thought I was in trouble for making personal calls or taking too long a lunch. Quite the opposite. It seems they were working on an ad campaign for a sun tan lotion where they needed a young, slim, attractive blonde. Rather than comb the city for one, they thought they would use me, if I were interested.

Well, I was interested. The work went very well. It had it's tedious aspects but it was more fun than working at a desk. I won't go into the details as to how, but before long I was working for a modeling agency, making a darn sight more money, and from time to time, coming home with free things that I had modeled.

So life was going quite well, but I had this gnawing sensation in the background most of the time. What was I going to do about Hector? Were we going to divorce? What was I going to tell my parents and when? Hector might have called looking for me and told them I left. They would be worried. What did I want from life? Sometimes I'd turn green thinking about these things, but then it would be time to do something fun or interesting, and the worrying thoughts would recede to the back of my mind again.

Back at the flat, Keith and I were getting friendlier than I had ever expected. The only thing that kept me from getting too serious about him is that there were two other chaps for whom I felt a similar fondness.

Other than that, the only other thing worth mentioning was the pool party that Barb and I went to. She was dating a chap, who had a flatmate, whose parents lived nearby with a swimming pool. The parents were going to be away and the flatmate was having a party.

It was a hot day. We came in the late afternoon and swam. We changed back into our clothes for supper, which was just takeaway something-or-other that everyone chipped in for. After supper we turned the music on loud and sat out on the grass and smoked until it got dark.

I was beginning to feel dreamy when I heard a splash in the pool. People were going back in, and since no one wanted to put on wet bathing costumes they were going in with nothing on at all. Barb and I joined them and we had a delightful time. Afterwards we all sat around the sides of the pool - no towels this time, as it was dark. But you could still tell the boys from the girls in the moonlight. It was a merry time.

The day after the party I woke up groggy and ill, but I knew it wasn't just the excesses of the party to blame. That gnawing sensation I was experiencing since my return to London was that of the little cells multiplying inside me. I could deny it no longer. I was pregnant.

I went to the clinic as soon as I could get an appointment. They confirmed what I already knew and told me I was 8 weeks along. At least I knew who the father was - it was Hector. But what was I going to do? Did I want to have this baby? Did I want to go back to Hector? I was just beginning a career as a model. I had even been offered a small part in the movie that would later be released as _Blow Up_. What did I want?

Barb and I had been going over my options in the last few days. Since I was married, it wouldn't be a complete disgrace to have the baby on my own, but it would probably mean going back to my parents. That was completely unacceptable to me. We agreed that my other choices came down to going back to Hector or having an abortion.

I decided to have an abortion. It was the lesser of two evils. How could I go back to Hector, with all the complications of raising a child, if I couldn't stand to live with him before? I felt I had no choice. The problem was it was 1965 and abortions were still illegal. One could get one, of course, but who knows how safe it would be? And one couldn't just find a place in the telephone directory, one had to ask around discretely. As it turned out, Barb knew someone who knew someone, and within 24 hours I had an address that was good as of two months ago. There was no phone or system for appointments. I was just to go there. I felt like a criminal.

Barb accompanied me to the place, which was in not the worst part of town, but almost. It was not in a back alley, but a rough looking residential area. We were on the right street and were about to cross, when whom do you think I saw standing in front of the building in question, but Donald.

"Don't cross, keep going," I instructed Barb. We kept walking. I told her why and we turned the corner. I was shaking. "Let's go back to the tube station," I said. "I can't do this today."

Barb and I went home and we talked about my situation some more. The more I thought of it, the less I wanted to go back to that creepy looking place. For some crazy reason I thought Donald would be there again, that he might even be the abortionist. Even if I weren't pregnant, the last thing I wanted was to have Donald gloating at me, knowing that my marriage to Hector had lasted exactly as long as he had predicted.

Somehow, in face of my dislike for Donald, I started feeling protective of Hector. Hector, in my opinion, was still the better of the two brothers. I felt a need to prove Donald wrong. In the morning I had made my decision. I would give Hector another chance. Maybe this baby would bring us closer together.

Barb questioned my plan. Was this really what I wanted? I assured her that it really was. My hands shaking, I picked up the phone to call Hector. The phone rang ten times before Golly answered. Hector wasn't home.

"Golly, I'm coming back. Hector and I are going to have a baby. Do you think he'll have me?"

"Aye, I think he'll have ye, Molly. It's just that he's oot noo. I think he'll be back, erm... tomorrow."

"I'll arrive the day after tomorrow," I said.

"Someone will pick ye up at the station."

-11-

So I packed my things, gave notice at the modeling agency, and said goodbye to my closest friends. I got on the train with some trepidation, but by the time I arrived at Glenbogle, I had high hopes.

Of course, what I didn't know until much later, was that Hector had been off gallivanting with Paul's mother in Edinburgh. Golly had taken the first train that came after I called, and found the errant pair just in time. I can only imagine what went on when she found out that he was married. But the upshot was that Hector was at the station when I alighted from the train. I thought he was there to meet me, but it seems he had just gotten off himself.

"Molly, you're back," he said.

"Yes, Hector, I'm back, to stay."

"You naughty girl," he said. "I missed you so much. I didn't think you were ever coming home."

"I am home and I am carrying your child."

"That's good," he said. "A child will be good for us. The Highlands is a good place to raise a child."

Hector drove us back to the house in silence. It only occurs to me now that Golly must have been on that train with him. Golly must have walked back, I suppose, to give us privacy.

When we reached the house and walked inside, Hector said, "Mrs Mack is gone."

"Hector, how did you get rid of her? She's been with your family forever."

"She gave notice. Said it was time to retire. She's went to live with her sister in Aberdeen. I made sure she's provided for, of course."

"That's good news," I allowed.

"But I haven't replaced her," he said, looking at me for a reaction. "Do you think you can manage with just a maid and a cook, and Jock, of course."

"I think I can."

"Splendid. We'll have a nanny, when the child arrives. Oh, and your coloured light thingummy is still here." It was boxed and sitting in a corner of the great hall. "We'll put it away somewhere safe so we can have it again next year. It's good to have new blood in the family. It brings in new ideas. Who says we can't be up to date in the Highlands?"

It wasn't until then that he took me in his arms. It felt so good to be home.

One might say that my return to Glenbogle was the real beginning of my marriage to Hector. We learned to make accommodations to each other. In time I started having responsibilities in the village as laird's wife and I made friends. And soon I was having Jamie. Hector remembered that he had reserve duty the moment I went into labour, so he wasn't present for the birth. He found excuses 2 and 4 years later when Lizzie and Archie were born too.

But back to Jamie's arrival, Hector was delighted that I had given him a son. He kept praising me, as if I had any choice in the matter. He had come back from the reserves with all sorts of presents inappropriate for a newborn baby: a football, toy soldiers, a leather bound volume of _Treasure Island_. That was pure Hector. He loved his children, but rarely in the way they needed at the time.

And I... I never lived so colourful a life as I did on my own in London, but I don't think I could have sustained it much longer before burning out. I was content with my life with Hector. Although he could be infuriating at times, I don't regret my decision.

The funny thing is, to some degree, I made that decision because of Donald, of all people. If Donald hadn't been standing in front of that building, my life and Hector's might have been quite different. None of my children would have been born. I wouldn't be writing this now. How very strange to contemplate.

Better not to dwell on it. I think this is all I have to say about my courtship and early marriage to Hector. I'll stop here. I may be old, but I have better things to do than write my memoirs. I hear my friend, Andrew, coming. He is giving me driving lessons.


End file.
